


90+3

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Tottenham Hotspur, england nt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: The aftermath of Harry’s brilliant goal when Spurs played Fulham





	90+3

Thanks to Llorente’s own goal, things were looking bleak in the final few minutes of the game. 

Spurs needed those three points if they were to have even a hope in hell of remaining in the race for the Premier League title, the top two teams speeding off ahead into what was fast becoming a two horse race. With all their injuries and leaving players Spurs were up shit creek - and any positivity the team had was fast diminishing. 

Three minutes was added to the game time; three measly minutes with which to score a second goal. With Harry Kane and Son being away this seemed an impossible task, and fans were filtering out of the stadium dejectedly, their minds already made up on how the game was going to end. 

Still, they pressed on - they kept possession of the ball, pushed it towards goal, fought for the points. Nothing was sticking, nothing working - the ball was continually kicked away from goal, sent in the opposite direction. Eric had been brought on for his first game in weeks and he was growing increasingly frustrated, doing his best to get behind the ball and falling short every time. He wasn’t sure exactly how many seconds were left but he knew it must’ve been few - those three minutes had felt like half an hour and he knew their luck was up, that it was over, that they’d have to settle for third place at best - and then, faster than he even knew what happened, the crowd were roaring and the ball was in the back of the net. 

Eric froze, gobsmacked. He wasn’t sure - couldn’t be sure who’d put it in - and then he saw Harry Winks, racing jubilantly away from the goal, careening into the side of the stands. Eric tore off after him, utterly stupefied, watching open mouthed as he was pulled to the ground like a doll. His first instinct was to go and pick him up, pick him up properly and hold him away from these heavy handed buffoons - honestly, if you couldn’t handle Harry carefully then you shouldn’t be touching - but Harry got back on his feet and was swarmed by the team, all shouting, all ecstatic. 

Eric couldn’t reach Harry immediately but it didn’t matter. He’d have plenty of time later to express his gratitude, to congratulate him. The puppy pile broke up and the final whistle went and it was over - somehow, by the grace of Harry’s forehead alone, they’d done it. Eric wandered towards the remaining fans, clapping his hands in the air, and checked for Harry’s whereabouts. He was on his own, finally, and Eric made his way over, beaming. 

He put his hand out and pulled Harry into a hug, unable to prevent the laughter from pealing out of his chest. He was just so jubilant, so proud - Harry was laughing back, wrapping his arms around Eric in return, tilting the side of his face down onto his shoulder and burrowing in. Eric couldn’t help but to stick a hand in Harry’s hair, even though he knew he’d kill him for it. He’d probably spent ages getting it right in the mirror that morning, combing gel through the front meticulously, focussing with a pout. Eric told him once that he liked it better when it was soft and fluffy and Harry had snapped back that he didn’t do his hair for Eric’s approval, thank you very much, but they both knew that was a big fat lie. 

Eric bounced off again, knowing he had to pay attention to his teammates and shake hands with the Fulham members. He couldn’t stop smiling, and it was all down to Harry. It was always all down to Harry. 

— 

In the changing room, when Harry came trotting in holding his little man of the match trophy, Eric had to chew the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a mad man. He leaned back against the wall and watched as Harry made his way to his own cubby, smiling at people who called out to him, hands patting him on the back as he walked. This was his moment and it was incredible to watch - the locker room felt like it was filled to burst with sunlight; with soft bubbles of happiness, and all because of the way Harry’s eyes were crinkling when he smiled proudly at the rest of the team. 

Harry sat down on the bench and looked down at his trophy, his thumb sweeping over the purple lion on the front of it. Eric watched him intently, his heart fit to burst. Harry must’ve sensed it because he looked up suddenly, over at Eric, and they exchanged a heated stare for a couple of seconds, one Eric was sure would burn anyone who stood in the way of it. Harry blinked, and then the corner of his mouth tugged up at the side and Eric had to look away, turning around and swallowing hard. He’d never get out of there without kissing him if he didn’t. 

Eric was being driven back to his house by a car service and he didn’t look for Harry as he left the stadium, instead pulling out his phone and texting him ‘come to mine in an hour - got something for you’. Harry replied moments later, a thumbs up emoji next to a little football, and Eric had to lock his phone and smile out of the window, so utterly enamoured by this boy. 

The car made its way through the Sunday traffic expertly and Eric was home quickly, unlocking the front door and petting the dogs who were wagging their tails at his feet, showering him with love. He kicked off his shoes and began flicking the lights on as he made his way to the kitchen, pouring out two bowls of dog food and getting a glass of cold water for himself. 

He left the dogs snarfling into their dinner and went to take a shower, taking extra time to stand under the water and let his muscles enjoy the warm water. His mind wandered to thoughts of the last time he’d had Harry in here - he’d been all sleepy because it was so early in the morning, grumbly and leaning into Eric’s shoulder as Eric washed his hair, his dick growing hard as he thought about Harry running around all day with his hair smelling of Eric’s shampoo. Harry had looked down and said ‘what’s so sexy?’ and Eric panicked and said it was a morning thing, no reason for it. He couldn’t admit it was a territorial thing - they hadn’t discussed this, their whole situation. He didn’t want to freak Harry out. 

Eric got out of the shower and pulled on a soft T-shirt, a pair of grey shorts. He rubbed some moisturiser over the scar on his abdomen gently and then padded back down the stairs on bare feet, sticking the kettle on. He filled a cup with hot water and put a summer fruits green tea bag in the mug, dunking it up and down by the string, entranced by the way water swirled pinkly out of it on every dip. The only sound was the clock ticking on the wall and the quiet hum of the fridge. Eric sipped at his tea, enjoying the burn of it on his throat as it slid down into his belly. When it was finished he got up and placed the teabag into the bin and the mug in the sink, rinsing it once, twice with cold water. He shot off a text to Dele, asking how he was, and then the doorbell went. 

Eric rolled his head on his neck and turned, walking meaningfully to the door, his teeth grinding impatiently. He made his way up the hall and unlocked the door, opening it on a damp haired, warmly wrapped up, grinning Harry Winks. 

“Hi,” Eric said, unable to stop the answering smile that broke out across his face. 

“Hi,” Harry said back, rising up on his toes and then back down onto his heels. 

“Come in,” Eric said, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow Harry entry. 

Harry kicked off his shoes next to Eric’s, clapping the heads of Clay and Cisco and talking animatedly at them. Eric noticed he was wearing mismatched Christmas socks and he had to stop himself from picking Harry up then and there and telling him he was the cutest thing that had ever, or would ever, walk the earth. He watched Harry and the dogs for a brief moment and then ushered him into the sitting room, plopping down heavily on the sofa and tucking one leg under himself. Harry sat down near him and Eric stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, behind Harry but not touching him, not yet. Harry was looking at him with wide eyes and Eric had to remind himself to go slow, to pace it, to wait. It was always better when he waited. 

“How are you feeling?” Eric asked. 

“Oh my god. I cant believe it, honestly. Soon as I got in the car my Dad called and he was going crazy, going well mad, absolutely wicked hearing him like that - you know how proud they are when you do stuff for England? Like, was like that but more, cos obviously he’s been brought up on Spurs ain’t he, and it was just - like my second - it’s not my first, but like feels more in a way, feels more important, like it’s been so long, two years they said post match, isn’t that nuts? I’ve been waiting two - and in the final seconds, Eric, nearly had us drawing didn’t we, Jesus, imagine that? Sonny’d be well disappointed I think, he’d be well sad over in Korea, and I hate the thought of that, god, that’s not on is it? I didn’t even know I’d got it in, didn’t even know, just headed it, just like nutted it in the general direction. Fucking mad, feels so mad, you proper black out don’t you?” 

Eric watched Harry babble with a great big smile on his face, enjoying the way he gesticulated and his eyes flashed, lighting up the whole house with energy. Eric watched his lips move over his teeth and his tongue dance in his mouth and he wanted to kiss him, had to - he let his fingers climb down off the back of the sofa and rest on the back of Harry’s neck, moving up and down in a soothing stroke. Harry leaned into it, his neck crinkling back, but he never stopped talking, still so much to say. 

“And then Poch was like saying how amazing it was and saying I made his day, made his whole weekend, saying he loved me and stuff which was really nice, but it was well sad what happened to Dele’s hamstring so I suppose that’s taken some of the fun out of it definitely, have you heard from him? Is he alright? God, he’s always getting injured there, it’s such a shame, doesn’t deserve it. No one ever deserves it though do they? Oh my god though, Eric, the crowd, I do remember that. I do remember everyone screaming,” he went on, eyes dancing. 

Eric brought his hand round, stretched his thumb up onto Harry’s cheek, swiped it across the soft peachy skin there. Harry’s head tilted into it and he brought one of his own hands up, wrapping it around Eric’s wrist. 

“They were like jet engines and it wasn’t even a home crowd. That’s got to be the best feeling in the world, surely? Surely there’s nothing - “ 

Eric kissed him then, closed mouthed and firm. Harry tilted his face up and sighed wistfully, and Eric thought he’d finally quietened him - but then he was off again, his words coming out of his mouth and bumping into Eric’s lips. 

“Alright, kissing’s quite a good feeling too, I’ll give you that. I’ll admit that, but - “ he paused as Eric kissed him again, more open mouthed that time. “It was so nice to be out there with you. Couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t come on. Couldn’t have gotten down there. Your goal as much as mine, really. We’re quite good together, aren’t we?” 

Eric’s breath stuttered at that, because he knew Harry meant on the pitch, in the game, but he wondered if he was hinting at this - at them meeting up a couple of days a week and making each other come, texting each other all day every day. Eric wondered if Harry was referring to the fact he had started keeping a toothbrush in Eric’s bathroom, just for convenience sake. He wondered if he was talking about the way Harry looked in Eric’s kitchen when he was making toast, like he belonged there, the dogs at his feet and a pair of Eric’s joggers on, all bunched up around his ankles because Eric was bigger. He didn’t want to ask, though, didn’t want to destroy the moment. He kissed him instead, licking into his mouth that time, wanting to be close. 

They kissed on the sofa and Eric felt heat bubble inside himself. He’d never been so turned on just from kissing in his life - but it was always like this with Harry. It felt like such an honour, such a treat, that it never failed to get Eric keyed up. Harry was always so breathless and needy too, leaning in like he was starving for it, whether they’d been kissing for three seconds or three hours. Eric could never get enough of him and it was almost embarrassing - he didn’t want to be so whipped, so needy. He always did his best to conceal how much he wanted Harry but it must’ve been obvious in the way he licked at Harry’s mouth, sucking and biting his bottom lip, hands trailing incessantly up and down his body. He could do this for hours - once they had sat in this exact spot and made out for two hours non stop, until they’d both been dehydrated and their lips had swelled up and they were both so, so hard - but he had other plans for that evening. Using every bit of will power he possessed Eric pulled back, stomach clenching as Harry’s mouth chased his, his eyes remaining closed, thick brows furrowing a bit. 

“Hold on,” Eric said, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “I’ve got something for you.” 

“What? You’ve got something for me?” 

“Yes. I was saving it for your birthday, but I want you to have it now.” 

“Oh,” Harry said softly, looking up at Eric with those ridiculous eyes. “Oh, okay. That’s exciting. I’m excited for my birthday but this, the game, that’s the best birthday present. I still can’t believe it, can you believe it? Gotta be up there with one of the best moments of my life so far. I can’t believe...” 

Eric left him talking and went off to fetch his gift, smiling fondly as the sound of Harry’s voice followed him down the corridor. It was in the kitchen, on the table where he’d left it. He hadn’t had the chance to wrap it yet but he didn’t care - he was getting impatient, tired of waiting. He picked it up and went back in the direction of Harry’s voice. 

“Never thought I’d get a man of the match trophy, going to put that right on my fireplace, should get it engraved, do people usually do that? I mean - “ 

“Harry?” 

Harry looked up at Eric, who was stood before him with his hands behind his back. “Yes?” 

“Close your eyes.” 

“Okay.” Harry closed his eyes and put his hands out. “What is it? Is it a dog? Have you got me a puppy? Hope you’ve got me a - “ 

Eric placed the shirt in Harry’s hands. His eyes fluttered open as he looked down - it was a folded up Spurs shirt. Harry frowned at it and then looked up and Eric. 

“What -“ 

“Look at the back.” 

Harry unfolded the shirt, turned it over, and gasped. It was Eric’s number, 15, and above it, in dark blue capitals, was the word Daddy. For the first time since he’d come in the door Harry was silent. Eric waited carefully, breath held. They’d never discussed this, not really - but once, a couple of months ago, Eric was really putting it on Harry, fucking him into incoherence until he felt so good that all he could say were a few words - a few expletives, the words ‘like that’, and, to both of their surprise - the word daddy. Eric had to bite down on his own hand not to come as soon as he heard it. There’d been teeth marks in his skin for hours afterwards. 

“D’you like it?” Eric asked gently. 

Harry dragged his eyes away from the shirt and looked up at Eric, nodding slowly. He stood up suddenly, rising onto his tiptoes and pulling Eric’s neck down into a kiss. Eric obliged, his hands resting on Harry’s waist. He could feel the words Harry wasn’t saying through his mouth - he could feel the gratitude, could sense that Harry was into it, that he appreciated the gesture. He brought his hand to the zip of Harry’s hoodie and pulled it down and off, making light work of his t-shirt, momentarily irritated that taking it off meant he had to stop kissing him. He ran his fingers over Harry’s ribs, along the soft swell of his stomach. He was overcome with a sudden urge to tell Harry he loved him; and he heard himself groan a little bit, both with shock at the realisation and terror at the thought of admitting it out loud. Eric pulled at the waistband of Harry’s joggers and they came off for him easily, as they always did. Harry was always ready to get naked for Eric, always so accommodating and submissive. It made Eric’s heart ache. 

He pulled away from the kiss and pulled Harry down to the carpet, laying him out on the floor. Eric hovered over Harry’s head and smoothed back his hair a couple of times, smiling down at him, a proper smile, one that reached his eyes. Harry beamed up at him with those big button irises. Eric put open mouthed kisses along Harry’s freckles and then sat back, taking in his naked body. Harry went to remove his socks but Eric stopped him, shaking his head. 

“Leave them on,” he told him, his fingers ghosting over Harry’s nipples. “I like them.” 

“Couldn’t find matching ones,” Harry explained, shrugging a bit. “In a rush to get here.” 

Eric kissed at his neck, his shoulders. “That’s okay. They’re very endearing.” He mouthed his way down Harry’s chest, tongue flicking over his nipples. Harry sighed breathily, head tipping from one side to the other. He was still smiling, always so smily and happy. Eric wondered how it was possible to pine for someone when they were naked on your living room floor, but here he was, doing just that. “You’re wonderful,” he heard himself saying before he could stop it, and Harry hummed. Eric moved to the soft skin of Harry’s inner bicep, right below his armpit. He grazed it with his teeth and then sucked a bruise to it, wishing he could mark Harry all over so that everyone who saw him knew he was someone’s, belonged to somebody - but he had to keep them hidden, the bruises. Besides, Harry wasn’t his - he was fucking him, sure, but he wasn’t exclusively his. Eric pushed that thought of his mind and moved to Harry’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth one at a time. It made Harry’s eyes close and his back arch slightly off the carpet. Eric’s eyes flickered to his dick, pleased to note it was hard and lying ready against his thigh. 

He continued to mouth at Harry’s body, getting him nice and worked up. His cheeks were a gorgeous shade of pink, his eyes impossibly big. Eric left him there for a second and went off to fetch lube, going so quickly he stubbed his toes on the dresser in the bedroom and cursed under his breath in Portuguese. He sped back down the stairs, crouching over Harry and kissing him again. Eric fiddled with the lid of the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers, wasting no time in prepping Harry carefully, expertly, painstakingly. Taking care of Harry was his number one priority, always - whether it was like this or at work, it didn’t matter. He’d get flack for it from Dele, who would roll his eyes and remind Eric that Harry was 22 years old, could probably remember to drink water all by himself. Even when Eric had been out with his appendix it’d been him taking care of Harry - Harry had come over with good intentions, a tin of soup and some Horlicks and even one of those vegan sausage rolls from Greggs that he thought Eric might like to try - but the night had ended with Harry curled into Eric’s side having his back tickled, sighing “you’re so good to me, Dier.” They couldn’t have proper sex for a while but they could give each other blow jobs and they could kiss loads and that was fine by them both. 

Eric fingered Harry till he was desperate and squirmy and painfully turned on underneath him, and then he pulled him up to standing, making sure they were always touching as they moved. Eric was glaringly hard in his grey shorts and Harry looked at it longingly, making Eric huff out a little laugh. He picked up the Daddy shirt and put it on over Harry’s head, dressing him like a handmaiden preparing a queen. Eric sat back and took him in, stood there with Eric’s number on his back and his Christmas socks on. Affection bubbled up his throat like vomit and he nearly said something soft, something that would have made this awkward, but he caught himself at the last minute. 

Instead Eric patted his waist and Harry climbed onto his lap, his hands snaking under Eric’s t-shirt and lying flat on his chest, balancing himself. They sorted themselves out, freed Eric’s dick. They made intense eye contact as Harry lined up and sank down onto Eric, hot and tight. Eric wasn’t prepared for it when Harry bit his lip, let it slide obscenely between his teeth, and said “feels so good, Daddy.” 

They both felt Eric twitch inside Harry and it was torturously good, sinfully perfect. Harry started to move and Eric watched him in awe, utterly stupefied by how gorgeous Harry was. 

“You look so good,” he said, because he had to. “You’re so hot.” 

Harry smiled, blinking rapidly. “Tell me I’m your baby?” He asked, his nails digging into Eric’s sternum. 

Eric nearly choked, but he quickly composed himself. “You’re my baby. You’ve always been my baby,” he said, wrapping his hand around Harry’s dick. “You’re my little baby.” 

Harry tipped his head back, moaned loudly. “No one’s ever made me feel this good,” he breathed. 

Eric wanted to tell him he felt the same. He wanted to say - why don’t we make this official, then? He wanted to tell Harry no one would ever make him feel so good, not in his life. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Instead he worked Harry harder, fucking him deep. It didn’t take long for Harry to start babbling the word daddy over and over, falling apart on Eric’s lap and sitting on the edge, right there, ready to come. 

“Come for me, baby,” Eric said, surprising himself with how deep it was. Harry whined and then he was coming, all over the hem of his shirt, all over Eric’s wrist. Eric was fast behind, stilling inside Harry, eyes squeezed closed and Harry’s name on his lips. Harry tipped forwards onto Eric’s chest and panted into his neck. Eric put his hand on the back of Harry’s head and flexed his fingers in his hair, his other arm closing around Harry’s back and cuddling him close. 

They lay there for a few moments and then they had to move and clean up, neither of them particularly fond of dry come. Harry was a bit wobbly on his feet and Eric laughed as he steadied him. He wasn’t ever sure if they were allowed to kiss after the sex, if that was too far, so he didn’t, finding it within himself to drag himself out of Harry’s space. He went to the kitchen for paper towels, washing his hands in the sink. Harry followed him in, no longer wearing the shirt and with his joggers back on. 

Eric looked over his shoulder and his stomach flipped at the sight of Harry, thoroughly debauched and sleepy looking. Eric wanted to wrap him up in his bed and sleep curled around him, to wake up to his funny little grin and his husky morning voice. Harry rubbed at his eyes and nestled up to Eric’s side, heat coming off his bare torso in waves. 

“Can I stay?” He asked, mumbling it like he was nervous, like he was asking for too much. 

Eric wanted to say he didn’t need to ask, never - he could stay every night if he wanted. Eric’d give him the keys, give him half the wardrobe. Instead he shrugged like he didn’t mind either way, said “Sure, Winksy,” scratching at his hair again. “Anything after that goal today.” 

Harry laughed, shook his head. “It was amazing, wasn’t it.” 

Eric made them both a grilled cheese that they ate at the kitchen island, discussing upcoming games and what they’d do with Dele being out now. Eric loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters and they meandered up the stairs together, slow and lazy. Harry paused halfway up to scold Eric for messing up his hair on the pitch, remembering it suddenly, and before he could stop himself Eric shut him up with a kiss, pressing him backwards up the steps until he stumbled. Eric caught him with an arm around his waist and led him to the bathroom, where they brushed their teeth side by side in the mirror. 

When they were in Eric’s bed and the lights were off Harry mapped out Eric’s face with the pad of his forefinger, like the darkness made him brave, and whispered “Tell me what you felt like when I scored.” 

“Felt like a party popper had gone off in my body. Wanted to grab you but there were so many people.” 

Harry was quiet, and Eric worried he’d gone too far. “Wanted you to grab me too.” Harry’s finger made its way to Eric’s lips and he traced them gently. 

Eric’s heart was hammering. “Go to sleep now,” he said. “Close your eyes.” 

“‘Kay,” Harry murmured, his feet knocking against Eric’s calves. “G’night, Eric.” 

“Night Harry.” 

Eric listened until Harry’s breathing changed, became slow and shallow. He rolled over onto his back and sighed. This was going to be the death of him, this whole thing. They needed to talk about it, to have a conversation, that was for sure. Eric was terrified of ruining it though, of making Harry realise it wasn’t just sex for him. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, until Harry reached for him in his sleep and pulled him closer, his face burrowing into Eric’s armpit. Eventually sleep took him too, and he fell into dreams of the match, the future, and Harry’s new Daddy shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Promise the next thing I write will be finishing my WIPs. Just had to get this out of me first!


End file.
